BOOK ONE: THE ILLUSTRIOUS P. JACKSON

What if we don't make it? What are you talking about? It's way too late to be thinking about that kind of thing. Go to sleep.

… You're really worrying about this, huh? Alright, alright, here, sit down. To be honest, I can't sleep either. And hey, we have some time before shit really hits the fan, so I'll tell you a story.

What? No, I'm not getting old. It's a story about my good friend, Percy Jackson. Ah, that got your attention, didn't it? I thought it would.

I know you won't know this one, too, because it's not as big of a deal as all the other stuff he went through, so people tend to leave it out. Saving the world just sounds flashier. My memory's pretty good, but I might be a little iffy on the details, so consider this to be around… say, ninety percent accurate. Eighty percent.

…. Okay, seventy-five.

You want some cocoa or something? No? Great. Let's begin.

In seventh grade, my parents sent me away to Quint Preparatory School. If you haven't heard of it, it's like the kind of thing you see in movies; pretty much a castle with acres of forests all around, a giant lake with water clearer than the stuff they sell you in bottles, carpeted floors, mahogany desks and closets… you know, the works. It's the kind of place where you can get a detention for not tucking in your shirt.

To be honest, I didn't really like it there, and I didn't end up making that many friends. I didn't care about any of that, though. The only thing I cared about was the list.

They had this list they put up on a bulletin board right next to the main office at the end of every month, showing the top fifty students of each grade. When I heard about it, I figured I'd be a shoe-in for the number one spot. I mean, it's me we're talking about; the guy who's been acing every assignment he's gotten since kindergarten. So, imagine my surprise when, one day, shoving my way through the crowd that always bunched together whenever they put that list up, I saw my name in second, right under this son of a bitch asshole P. Jackson.

I say that because that's what I thought when I saw it. Look, you guys have to understand that there's a reason I've been the head of the Athena cabin for three years now, and it's not because I can knit a presentable scarf or because I keep getting my dad to bake us a platoon of brownies once a summer. It's because I'm damn smart. And when I was twelve, I was very aware of this, and very proud of it. I couldn't believe that anyone was getting better grades than me. I figured that this P. Jackson guy must've wormed his way into the top spot by some kind of fluke. I dunno, maybe he blackmailed the teachers or something.

So, the next time it happened… Let's just say it was a good thing my dad forced me to sign up for track, because I had a lot of pent up anger to burn, even if those 400-meter dashes killed my calves for a good three months.

This carried on the whole year. Every single month, I checked that list to see my M. Pace under that P. Jackson, and every month I'd pull my hair out trying to figure out how he was doing it. There had to be some sort of trick to it, I thought. I read my textbooks front and back each, twice. I could write a fucking Pulitzer-winning paper on Animal Farm. True, I couldn't get perfect scores on everything, but come on, who could? I'd get a point off some pop quiz, and that'd take me out of the running for first right there. I never complained to anyone—I was a quiet kid all things considered—but my roommate would flinch back every time I'd look at him, like he'd come this close to getting slugged in the face. He didn't spend that much time in our room, now that I think about it. Oh well.

It should be obvious by now that the one driving me insane was Percy, who'd apparently been there since a year before. No, he's not smarter than me, I can tell you're thinking that. There was a trick to it, and I was pissed when he told me. Anyway, I competed with him all year, losing every single time, getting my pride pounded into the dirt bit by bit. Then finally, on the last listing the day before school let out, I went over to the main office, bowled people over until I could get a clear view, and saw it. One, P. Jackson. Two, M. Pace. I had lost again.

Now, I hadn't come face-to-face with Percy at all up to this point. We were in different dorms, had different schedules for classes, and on top of that he was always off doing something—who knows what or where. No one really knew anything about him, and he didn't ever hang out with anyone as much as people seemed to like him. Well, maybe like is a strong word. It was more that they could appreciate him when he was there, like a TV in a sports bar; it adds to the atmosphere, and if there's a big game on then you pay attention, but otherwise you wouldn't really mind it if someone turned it off.

Yeah, it's hard to believe with him, right? Just bear with me here.

After losing to him so many times, and now with the last straw, so to speak, I'll admit that I took things a bit far. On the final day of school, we'd have an assembly, you know, to say how proud they were of us and that we had a great legacy to live up to and all that. Grades sixth through eight would get stuffed into the gym and be forced to sit on these super uncomfortable plastic chairs, and there'd be a ton of parents everywhere, and the AC was never cold enough, and we still had to wear our uniforms with the ties… All in all, not a good time. It was also my one shot at getting back at Percy—now my ultimate nemesis—since it was the last time before summer vacation that we'd be in the same room.

Through my many connections—Connor and Travis, who were more than happy to help me out even if it was from across the country—I managed to acquire a good few fireworks. And these weren't some cute little bottle rockets; I'm talking the stuff they use for the Fourth of July here. I cut out the gunpowder in there and bagged it. After that, I made sure that my homeroom would sit on the row right behind his, by a good combination of subterfuge, psychologic manipulation, and mostly finding the floor plans they have for events like these and switching things around with a red pen. Next, I snuck into the gym and taped my gunpowder zip-locks up against the bottom of Percy's assigned seat, which I knew because Quint always used alphabetical order for everything.

Was this dangerous? Probably. Definitely. It was a dark time for me, okay? You could say I was overreacting, but damn, I was just hitting puberty. The testosterone in my system was working overtime to egg me on.

When the time came, I was pretty nervous about it all. Pranks were never my thing, and I knew I'd get expelled if I got caught, but it was way too late to do anything about it by then. So, when my class went to line up and head over to the gym in single-file, I had my hand in my pocket, screwing with the box of matches I'd gotten from one of the upperclassmen.

My class was one of the last to make it in before the assembly started, so when I saw him, it was only the back of his head. If any part of me wanted to back out, it squashed right then and there. Just looking at the guy made me wanna throw a tantrum. My body moved, and I sat down right behind him, in between two other students who immediately turned to talk to the people next to each of them. The vice-principal started clearing his throat on the mic, about to start. No one saw me reach over and light the fuse under Percy's seat.

You know that feeling you get in your gut right as you hit the drop on a rollercoaster, and on top of that you suddenly don't know whether the thing they strapped on you is secure enough, and maybe you forgot to put your glasses away, or you realize that you're wearing sandals and they could fly off at any second? Yeah, I got that. Watching that fuse slowly shrink further and further into the bag of explosives, the full weight of the coming consequences slammed down on my shoulders. I sucked in a lungful of air, backing up into my seat like a cockroach had crawled through the floor between my shoes.

It started out slow, smoke sizzling out from under the seat. That was enough to get most people close by to notice that something was going on, and there was a lot of muttering, then a lot of shuffling as people tried to back away. Percy, now covered in smoke, sneezed. He was in the middle of saying something along the lines of 'what's cooking?' when his seat exploded into a rainbow lightshow that would've made any Disneyland employee proud.

My proximity to the blast zone was something I hadn't considered in my genius plan. I went deaf immediately, got covered in soot, all the smoke and bright lights blinded me. When everything was said and done, I ended up running around like a headless chicken, bumping into people and chairs, trying to run off to somewhere I could wash my face and get my bearings.

Slowly, the ringing in my ears went from 'fire alarm' level to 'class dismissed' level, and I could actually hear the blood pumping in my ears. I could also hear people screaming, and stuff falling and crashing, and the last few fireworks going off. I still couldn't see, and I didn't want to rub my eyes with hands that were probably caked with ash.

That problem was solved when the sprinklers went off, raining water down on the whole mess. It also made people freak out even more, and I could hear some of the faculty trying to organize students and parents, wanting to leave the gym in a dignified manner, but it was way too late for that. When the water washed away enough dirt from my face to let me see, I saw that the exit was now home to the biggest traffic jam of the century. Almost everyone was crowded around there, clawing at each other to get out, completely soaked, some of them covered in grime from all the smoke that still floated around in some places.

I made to go over and get out too. I mean, with all the chaos there was no way people would know it was all done by me if I went along with everyone.

But someone blocked my way. A student, at least a head taller than me, just as dirty as everyone else, but completely unbothered by it. I tried going around, but he held out his arm to stop me, and when I looked up to tell him to get out of the way, well…

Humans are pretty special, what with all our tech, and our ability to communicate with complex language, and all of that stuff I'm sure you've all heard from some motivational speaker or another. But, we're still animals at the end of the day, and every animal, no exceptions, has the same reaction to coming by a predator: you either stand your ground and fight, or run the hell away. Before all that, though, right when the adrenaline starts to flood into your system, you freeze.

And that's what happened to me. I froze. In that brief instant, I saw that this guy wasn't a guy at all. It was in the eyes. I'm sure you've seen it too. It's the kind of bloodthirst that can only come from the complete hatred of mankind. Eyes that wanna kill us and everyone we've ever known, right before piling us up in a mound and pissing on our graves.

No one knows exactly where monsters came from, but there are plenty of theories. Some people think that they were originally outcasts of society—murderers, cannibals, adulterers—and the Mist slowly warped their outsides to show their insides. Others think that some god created them one day, and maybe they went out of control. That's what a lot of the stories say, and maybe that's true for some of them. Me? I have a different theory.

Gods and heroes are supposed to embody the ideals of society. That's why we worship them. They're a goal, maybe not one we can ever reach, but one we consider worth striving for. But for there to be virtues that push us to our goals, there have to be vices that pull us from them. These vices, the flaws of humanity, our capacity for evil and malevolence, can be found inside every single person. There's a reason every demigod has a fatal flaw, and it doesn't have anything to do with us being half-divine. It's the half-mortal part. That's just what happens when you're human. Deep down, we all have that potential to sin, and it's something we run from. Desperately run from it. Because if we embrace it and let it lead us down that path…

Well, I guess I'm getting off topic.

If gods and heroes embody our ideals, then monsters embody our depravity. I don't know how, but the sick recesses of corruption in us were given shape and structure. It's a part of us that hates ourselves with all the enthusiasm you can imagine, and it's that hatred that stared me down then, loathing everything I was and could ever be, set on destroying me at any cost.

As you could guess, I chose the flight strategy in that particular encounter. Slowly, like any sudden twitch could get the student look-alike to stop the act and rip me to pieces, I backed away, my hand coming down the emergency knife I had strapped to my belt.

Then the monster did shed its costume, or it morphed out of it. Its form shifting and churning, the thing grew into a hideous whirlpool of black stuff, the indoor rain from the sprinklers mixing up into the fluid cloud as its eyes kept staring, floating in the formless mass.

A metamorphogos; the shapeshifter. They're rare, so I wouldn't be surprised if none of you have run into one. They have this really unfair habit of turning into whatever they want, so it's easy for them to sneak into places without anyone noticing. Even demigods with years of experience have trouble spotting them in crowds—it's not like you can see their true forms through the Mist like usual—so it doesn't surprise me that it managed to sneak into Quint, especially when I wasn't exactly watching out for monsters. At the time, the one in front of me was turning into a giant wolf-beast that would make any hellhound jealous, with thick dark fur and sharp bones jutting from its thick flesh.

As I backed away, I bumped into someone else. I went to twist around, heart dropping into my gut, thinking there was another one behind me, but a hand grabbed my shoulder. At that moment, running away was clearly not gonna work, so my body switched over to combat mode even if I knew logically that there was no way I was getting out of that in one piece.

But right before I could reach around and stab whatever was behind me with my knife, I heard it speak up. It was a boy, and young, who said, and I quote:

"Looks like school… went out with a bang."

The truly horrible timing of what I quickly realized to be a pun was enough to stop me, and it's a good thing too, because if it didn't I would've killed Percy Jackson right then and there.

We were the only ones left in the gym at that point, everyone else having finally evacuated. Percy reached up to comb his black, wet hair out of his eyes. There were a pair of sunglasses hung from the collar of his shirt, which was unbuttoned at the top, against school code. He eventually noticed the abomination ready to eat us alive.

"Shit, that's a big dog. Is it growing tusks?" he said, pointing at it over my shoulder. It was quite the shock to find out that Percy could see through the Mist, especially in that situation. I had thought that I was the only demigod in the whole school, after all. "Was that there the whole time, and I didn't see it? Wait…" he looked down at the knife in my hand. "… I see you're in the middle of something."

It was all said with subdued interest, like he was just walking through the park and noticed an especially nice flower or tree.

I don't know what I would've said. Maybe call him crazy. Maybe I would've actually told him that my knife was clearly the last thing to worry about. But I couldn't say any of that, because just then the shapeshifter-turned-huge-murder-dog rushed at us, transformation complete and patience worn thin.

Instead, I said, "Run!" then followed my own advice and jumped over some upturned chairs, trying to get some distance from the monster.

Percy unfortunately didn't follow my advice, instead staring at me as I ran off. "Why? It's probably just a—"

The monster slammed its tusk into him with the force of a wrecking ball, throwing him several feet away into a row of chairs, where he landed in a crash of hard plastic and wet wood.

I didn't have time to worry about him, though, because the metamorphogos began changing shape again, keeping the whole monster-wolf aesthetic but turning bipedal, easily following me through the mess of chairs with long spindly legs.

I'd always thought that I'd be ready for a moment like that. It's what I was training for, after all. But you can understand why I was a bit scared with a giant, seething monster-wolf thing backing me into a wall. To be honest, I was shaking more than a laundry machine, and that actually might've saved me, because seeing me terrified and wet, with only a small knife between us, the metamorphogos stopped and went to the effort of shifting its savage snout into a slightly less savage jawline.

It was real ugly now. Furred and vicious like a wolf, tusked like a boar, but with the body and face of a man. Its arms grew huge, looking strong enough to crush me like an empty soda can. It laughed, and the sound that came out of its throat was beyond guttural, almost metallic, like rusty clockwork. Seeing me cower against the wall, barely holding my knife up, it spoke, contempt dripping out from its voice:

"If you knew how hard you were to find, you'd be laughing too! It took me days to track you down in this ridiculous school! And all for some pathetic noddle-armed brat! You better pray to whatever god bred you that the taste is worth it. In fact, we'll make sure it is! We'll cut you up real nice, throw in some seasoning, some eggs, some custard… make a quiche or something!"

I didn't want to be a quiche, and not just because I wasn't very partial to French cuisine. Still, the worst part about the whole situation was that it had said 'we' at the end there. This wasn't all that surprising, but it was a worst-case scenario. See, metamorphogos are usually loners, since they can sneak into anywhere and take all their meals for themselves. The real dangerous ones, though, usually grouped up with some other monsters.

It was in a monster gang, like it wasn't bad enough on its own. If I ever find out who gave monsters the idea to group up, I swear, I'll make them eat out a pigsty for the rest of their life. Metamorphogos were an especially lucky get for any gang that could convince one to join up. They were like the ultimate recon team all by themselves.

The stress of whatever was out there waiting for some kind of signal just added to my stress. As the monster got closer and closer, blocking off any escape, all that adrenaline and tension building up inside me burst out, and my body moved on its own, knife lunging forward and driving itself into the beast's thigh.

It didn't do much, just a grunt from the monster, but it was enough to distract it. I dived under its legs, sliding a bit from the water as I fell on the floor. Getting to my feet, I ran as fast as I could to the gym bleachers, feeling the hair on the back of my head ruffle as one of the gnarly claws almost decapitated me.

The bleachers in the gym were automatic ones, meaning they could be opened and closed with the flip of a switch, sliding in against the wall like a set of drawers. I'd always seen my classmates messing around inside them whenever they were open, and getting in trouble because of how dangerous it was. Can you imagine being under there while the bleachers closed?

Well, I could. I flipped the switch on my way past it and ran right in under the bleachers, weaving my way up and around the metal supports even as they grinded against each other, contracting. I took a peek behind me and saw that the monster had followed me in, its form now smaller to fit into the tighter space.

This was one of my more on-the-spot plans, but I didn't know what else to do. My knife was stuck in its thigh, and I didn't have any crazy powers. Us normier demigods have to live with what we get, even if in my case it's not much more than a slightly bigger brain and a proclivity for improvisation.

Seeing the walls literally closing in on me, I started to panic, but all I could do was keep running. I felt the monster at my back, getting near, not with the supports as much as I thought it would. With only a few feet left to go, and the bleachers almost squishing me behind them until some poor janitor found whatever was left of me later down the road, I threw myself forward, diving to a roll and landing on my back, just in time. I watched the monster, inches from following after me, getting enclosed by the bleachers as they thudded to a stop against the gym wall.

I sat there, completely soaked. Then, I remembered to breathe.

It wasn't the first monster I'd killed, but it was the first one I'd beat on my own, completely unsupervised. A thrill came over me, and I couldn't stop myself from smiling. I just kept thinking, thank god I did it. Thank god.

The exhaustion came when the adrenaline rush left.. Laying spread-eagle on my back, I sighed, relaxing even as drops of water kept raining down on me from the ceiling.

You should know how big of a mistake that was. Not a second later, I heard a thud. Then another. It didn't take long for a hole to get blown apart in the bleachers, and from it, out stepped the metamorphogos, now big enough to eat me whole. It had taken the shape of a giant, I guess just to get it all over with.

"That was cute," it said. Searching around its mouth with its tongue, it then spat out my knife, and it clanged to a stop next to me.

It apparently wasn't feeling very talkative, because next thing I knew it was reaching for me with hands as big as I was tall. I would've screamed, but my voice caught in my throat, and I could only watch scared out of my mind from the floor as its fingers got closer and closer.

Then, just as the monster was about to crush me with its meaty palm, I felt something like a cannonball slam into me. I got thrown far, definitely bruised, right as the big hand closed where I had just been lying. The metamorphogos stood there, staring dumbly at his empty hand, opening and closing it just to make sure. And then, from behind the monster, we heard a voice:

"Look at you, all big-like."

Standing in the middle of what used to be a row of seats before the monster had barged through them, water falling all around him, Percy stood, hand in his pocket, the other combing his drenched hair back. His eyes met mine, and he nudged his head. "Hey… whoever you are… You might wanna get outta the way now."

I didn't know what he was planning, but with the monster's attention off me, I wasn't complaining. I scrambled away, and the metamorphogos turned to look at Percy, ignoring me for the moment. It sniffed, then made a face like swallowing expired milk.

"I was wondering where that smell was coming from," it said. "You should take a bath, runt. Your stench was bad enough to cover for his," it was referring to me, then. "I was actually about to give up the hunt, but then, well," it laughed, gesturing to the otherwise empty gym, "looks like luck was on my side, getting us all alone together. Much easier to pick out smells with less people around."

Percy narrowed his eyes, whole body tensing up. "I don't know what you're talking about…" He lifted his arm and sniffed his armpit, then pointed a stern finger at the monster, looking offended. "I shower twice a day!"

The metamorphogos laughed again, turning back to me. "A funny one, eh? Well, run along then. This has nothing to do with you."

This single line would lead a long and arduous investigation on my part, because at the time it didn't seem to make any sense. Percy could see through the Mist, and he clearly had some sort of godly power, if my throbbing ribs meant anything. How could he not be involved, I thought. Right at that moment, however, I had bigger things to worry about, namely the giant look-alike salivating over me.

Percy kept staring the monster down. Then, and I couldn't believe it, he grabbed the sunglasses hanging from the collar of his shirt, snapped them open, and slid them on. "Thanks, but no thanks. I thought you were a hologram or something, but then you went and broke my arm. It hurts a lot, just so you know."

The metamorphogos turned to him again. "I'm warning you here, brat. Get out while you still can, before I change my mind."

"Huh? Am I supposed to be scared or something?" Percy raised a hand, the other still in his pocket. "Whatever. Since you're trying to kill us and everything, I guess I should just kick your ass."

Hearing this, the metamorphogos began changing for the worse. Muscles bulged, fangs grew out of its chapped lips, dripping poison which melted through the floorboards on impact. A tail sprouted from the small of its back, spiked and topped like a scorpion's. "As always, you children can be too full of yourselves. Unfortunately for you, I'm not just any monster! We metamorphogos are the ultimate predators! Our strength is only limited by our imaginations! Our malleable bodies can take just about anything! I'll crush your bones into powder! I'll rip your limbs tendon by tendon! I'll—"

The monster's head was thrown back, like it had gotten sucker punched right on the jaw. The sound of something smacking against flesh over and over filled the auditorium, and the metamorphogos was thrown back against the wall several feet away. Eyes wide in pain, a gurgling scream ripped out of its mouth as something hit it again and again like machinegun fire, all over its giant body.

Holes were getting pounded into its skin, a force crashing into the monster, a barrage of invisible strikes. The sound bled into the sprinkler water hitting the floor, and it almost felt like I was in the middle of a storm, my ears assaulted with the patter of rain-waves.

With one final hit, the wall gave in, splintering cracks forming, and the monster exploded into the hole, left sitting in its own personal inlet. Its eyes were glazed over, and though it still breathed, it didn't so much as twitch.

Percy let out a long breath, putting his arm down. Looking up, he sucked in hard, nostrils flared. He then calmly walked over to one of the foldable chairs and, scream ripping from his throat, kicked it with all his might, sending it up into the air a good bit before it crashed back down. His hand reached around to hold his other arm, the one that was apparently broken, screaming shit, shiiiiit! It's a wonder how he managed all that without letting out all that pain before.

And then the sprinklers finally turned off.

I had watched the whole thing both amazed and confused. I've seen my fair share powers, as I'm sure you all have, but at the time that was the first one I'd seen that was so crazy strong. Now it really does seem like just a drop in the bucket of what people can do, but for someone like me, twelve years old and having gone to camp only twice? For someone who hadn't gone on any sort of quest, or met any god in person, or fought any really freaky monster, or even seen another demigod do more than little party tricks?

The whole show had blown past all my expectations, bringing back all sorts of stories that I'd thought were just exaggerations. Warriors like Achilles and Ajax going off to take down hundreds of Trojans singlehanded. Perseus turning the giant sea serpent Cetus into stone with Medusa's head. Hercules lifting entire mountains.

Even after two summers hanging out with satyrs and harpies and pegasi, training with other demigods, food magically appearing on our plates and automaton fights getting bet on, I had always been skeptical. No way was the crazier stuff we'd been told true, I thought. I was just too out there. Now? After seeing that? None of those things seemed all that far-fetched anymore.

I was so lost in my amazement that I didn't notice Percy getting closer until he stood just over me. He had his hand out. "Can you not stand or something? I'll drag you out, but don't blame me if you get more dirty than you already are."

That awe that had filled me earlier then turned into cold, hard pragmatism. I thought something like: there's probably more monsters out there waiting for me, and it's clear now that the small knife I have won't be enough to let me handle much more than a hellhound or something. Percy, though? He could handle things just fine.

I took his hand, ignoring my drenched clothes and the squish of my shoes.

"What was all that about anyway?" He flinched, and I realized that he wasn't kidding about that broken arm. It wasn't ideal, but he was still my best shot out of there, so it was up to me to make sure he was in tip-top shape to keep me alive.

I grabbed his shoulder, the healthy one, and looked at him as seriously as I could manage. "There's more of them. Come with me and I'll tell you everything. And I'll fix that arm up too."

It didn't take much convincing. He shrugged. "Sounds good to me. I've been waiting for something like this to happen, so it's about time!"

Whatever that meant was the least of my problems. Relieved, I recognized how one-sided our rivalry really had been. Thinking about it, I couldn't bring up much of the resentment I'd felt, at least not right after he'd saved my life. That wouldn't last forever, but for the moment? I knew where my priorities were.

So even though I already knew some of it, I still asked. "What's your name?"

"Percy. Percy Jackson." He was proud to say it.

"Call me Malcolm. I'm gonna blow your world wide open, Percy."

Even with the pain he was in, he grinned. "Can't wait!"

And he really couldn't. I'm sure he'd laugh now, if I asked him why he'd been so excited. He'd probably call himself an idiot, too, and I wouldn't disagree. We were both really dumb back then.

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